


Taking One's Lumps

by TwoDrunkenCelestials



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blowjobs, Cock Cages, Cunnilingus, Dom Martin, M/M, Mentions of gags/gagging, Multi, Orgasm Denial, Physical Abuse, Post-Apocalypse, Sexual Abuse, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, dom jon, heavily implied abuse, petplay gone very wrong, sadist martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoDrunkenCelestials/pseuds/TwoDrunkenCelestials
Summary: After the world ended, Jon and Martin changed. Grew crueler, colder. No one knows this better than Peter and Elias.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	Taking One's Lumps

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of a 2 am urge to write something filthy and awful, and petplay is one of my favourite kinks, lol. It's not heavily featured here, but if I write more, I do promise more of it. 
> 
> Thanks to Cuttooth for betaing!

"Get over here you _useless lump."_

Martin's voice is whip-like, a growl of frustration sharpening the words. He snaps his fingers at Peter, knelt on the cold marble floor.

Peter is quick to move, knowing full well the consequences of disobedience. He's been motionless up until this moment, ordered to stay stock still by Jon.

Elias' head is between Jon's legs, lapping at his cunt diligently. For a moment he tries to look over at Peter, but Jon's firm fingers digging into his scalp still him.

"Stay where you are, _beast."_ He presses Elias' face closer, moaning as that trained tongue does all that it is allowed to these days. Elias wears a gag when he isn't being used by one of his owners, one that cruelly presses down on his tongue. Peter knows the weight of it, does not envy the man his suffering.

He misses Elias' voice sometimes, in that distant way one misses an old blanket; a comfort, but one that perhaps ought to be discarded. Jon and Martin have taught him _that,_ with a too heavy hand and heavier words.

In many ways, his own fate is _worse._ Forced to be present, always, never able to just fade away. At constant beck and call for the pair that have grown rough with the End of Days.

Well, that's not entirely true. The only people they show kindness to are one another, the only true equals in a world turned upside down and inside out.

Sometimes Peter envies the softness they reserve only for each other, craves the touch of a too soft hand in a way he knows will return pain tenfold later. The caresses across his cheek burning, branding in a different way altogether than the cane Martin so favours.

At least Peter is _allowed_ his voice, his moans and whimpers clear when he's fucked roughly, his caged cock leaking as much as his mouth. It's almost leaking now, the heavily trained arousal spiking as he laps at Martin's presented cock.

Peter and Elias aren't allowed to come. That's for Jon and Martin only, for their owners. Pets don't come, after all. Not _them,_ at least.

The taste and weight of Martin's cock in his mouth is good, _heavy,_ filling him perfectly. Martin's fingers grip Peter's hair tight and he slides himself deeper, into Peter's throat. He doesn't give Peter any chance to adjust, just slides in like it belongs.

Which it does, Peter knows. That's how it is.

"Good boy," Martin says, though it doesn't sound kind or praising. It sounds cruel, but Peter craves it all the same. If the praise is a knife in the ribs to a still beating heart, their insults are a thousand cuts, each deeper than the last.

Martin begins to move, fucking Peter's throat with little consideration for what remains of his gag reflex. He's rough, the pain of nails in his scalp a sharp, perfect counterpoint to the use of his mouth, of a hole that's only good for fucking.

His owner lasts far longer than Peter anticipated. Martin had been wound up, watching Elias pleasure Jon. His eyes had been half lidded, watching each shift of emotion and bliss as it danced across his lover's face.

When Martin finally comes, moaning Jon's name like a symphony, he's buried as deep in Peter's throat as he can be. He pulls out near the end so the last of his come splashes across Peter's tongue and face. Peter doesn't flinch, merely licks his lips, still not moving.

He won't move until they say he can.

Jon seems to orgasm too, again, judging by the cutoff, breathy call of Martin's name. He rides Elias' face through the aftershocks, and afterwards Peter can see the slick shine of Elias' mouth. Part of him wants to lick it off, get a taste for himself, something he has come to crave here.

Martin's soft smack, a strike to the cheek that faintly stings, draws his attention back to his owner. The look on Martin's face is _wicked._

"Do you want your turn to make Jon come? You only have to make him come fifteen more times before you're allowed your ruined orgasm. Now, we both know you can't do it all tonight, _pathetic_ as you are. But you can certainly get a start, hmm?"

Peter can only nod, bury the quiet desperation of before, and crawl to Jon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading an awful little piece if my id, lol. This is my first actual filthy published smut. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Come follow me at twodrunkencelestials on Tumblr and talk to me!


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